I'm A Bartender For Christ Sakes!
by robiiskaaa
Summary: A oneshot set before the events of the first Assassin's Creed game. We see just how Desmond Miles ended up in Abstergo.  Desmond/Lucy   ONESHOT


**Notes: This is my own sort of prequel to the first AC game, _Assassin's Creed._ **

**It tells of how Desmond ended up at Abstergo. **

**I started it on the 18/03/11 at about 7:30 pm.**

** Hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think :)**

* * *

"What can I get you?"

"I'll have an orgasm"

Desmond Miles looked up from the cliché glass he was so generically drying against his black work apron and stared across the bar at the customer. "A. . . uh. . . what?"

"An orgasm. You know. The cocktail. Coffee liqueur, amaretto. . . ." the girl, blonde and blue eyed, let her words trail off and she smiled in amusement at the bartender's wide-eyed, open-mouthed confusion. "You must be new here?" she said, not in an unkind way. "Ok, I'll go easy on you. Just give me vodka and dash."

Desmond snapped out of it. "No, no, no. It's ok. I'm just. . . a little dazed. It's a slow night tonight. Do you still want the orgasm?" he felt like a tool saying it. And he felt even worse at the giddiness he felt when she said yes.

Turning away quickly to the drinks counter, Desmond busied himself as the girl perched herself on a stool at the bar. His mind raced at how he could recover from his stupid schoolboy moment so he took a breath and spoke, back still turned to her. "Haven't made one of these in a while. It's not the most popular of cocktails" He tried to sound cool and conversational.

"It's my favourite." the girl replied, seemingly unaffected by his previous awkwardness.

"Yeah? You must be a coffee fan then?"

"Yeah, you could say that. I work for a pretty big company and do a lot of research. The paperwork sometimes is tedious and staring at a computer screen all day and most of the night does extreme damage to the energy levels. Coffee is the one thing that keeps me going. I'm dependent on the stuff. Even in my alcohol."

"Well," Desmond turned back to the bar, confident that he had regained his composure, "there's a good coffee place down the street. _L__'aquila Marrone._ Its really good".

This seemed to throw the girl. She looked sheepish as she slid her cocktail toward her and licked her lips in what Desmond could only call "_in a nervous fashion."_

"I'm only in town for a little while. I came here on an errand for work. I'm nearly done. Being called back in a couple of days".

"You don't seem all that excited. If you don't mind me noticing" he added quickly.

"Like I said. The work can be tedious" she took a sip after a dubious roll of her eyes. "Oh wow" she said, voice bright again. "This is really good!"

"Haven't lost my touch."

"I certainly don't think so," the girl extended her hand to pay him.

Desmond did something brave then. "On me."

"Oh no. I couldn't," the blond said quickly, pushing the money toward him. He took a step away from the bar.

"On me I said. I won't take no."

Slowly and reluctantly and with a furrow in her slightly arched brows, the girl slid the few bucks back into her jeans. "Only if you let me make it up. Let me buy _you _a drink?"

"Only if its in _L__'aquila Marrone" _Desmond smiled. "Tomorrow at about four? That way I can walk straight to work for five".

"That's not really what I had in mind" the girl said, looking at him with a pair of sapphires rimmed with dark lashes. He watched her full lips form the next few words and he gulped when she was finished, watching him with her bright blue eyes, full of sudden expectation.

The blue fire in her eyes flickered. "How soon can you get out of here?"

Luckily for him it was a slow night and the owner of _The Fox and Gun _let him leave his shift early. His boss just smiled and winked as Desmond clocked out and hung his apron. He switched his black slacks for jeans and pulled his white hoodie over his head. Tapping his pocket his motorcycle keys jingled. He grabbed his helmet and left, ignoring the coos of "nice ass" and jibes about "getting lucky" from his co-workers.

The girl was waiting just outside the bar's entrance, clad in a brown leather jacket. Her arms hugged her body in the late night chill of mid-August.

"We were never properly introduced" the girl said, brushing a strand of blond from her face.

"Well" Desmond extended a hand. "I'm Desmond Miles. And, please miss, what's you're name?"

The girl clasped his hand and shook it. "I'm Lucy Stillman".

They fell in the door of the seedy little motel room. Their lips were locked even as Desmond fumbled with the room key and as Lucy struggled to keep hold of her handbag in which she'd stuffed some personal belongings, work related apparatus, cheap gas station booze and a small pack of condoms they'd picked up for good measure. In all reality, what else were a guy and girl who'd just met going to do after checking into a shady little three-star motel like this at this hour?

Desmond had pressed to go back to his own apartment, but Lucy refused and said it was better if they came here. To keep it as casual as possible, he guessed. Lucy seemed like very cautious person. He'd noted this as they'd made their way from _The Fox and Gun. _Though she'd first come across as cheery, confident and carefree_ s_he'd eyed his motorcycle with a sick expression before they'd mounted it. He'd reassured her countless times that it was safe and that he'd had his license for years. Since he was nineteen in fact. She'd just kept nodding and murmuring "I know, I know."

However, she'd frequently glance nervously at the traffic around and behind the bike as she clung tightly to his waist on their short ride from bar to motel (with the one small pit-stop at the gas station).

Now, inside the shady motel room with its awful pastel colour scheme, hideous, dusty furniture and peeling floral wallpaper, Lucy stood before Desmond with wind tussled hair which was yellow under the butter coloured glow of the single hanging naked lightbulb. Her lipstick was smeared from all the kissing. She held a hand to her face and blushed, letting out an embarrassed, breathy laugh. "I'm just gonna go freshen up in the bathroom, ok?"

"Sure" said Desmond, watching her walk away, handbag still clutched underarm. She slipped her jacket off as she went letting it crumple on the floor. Her eyes impishly caught his as she disappeared around the doorway which led into the bedroom.

Desmond was laying on the lumpy sofa with Lucy straddling his waist. They had been like this for a while now, their conversation broken up and dotted with little make-out sessions. Soon they would migrate to the bedroom. Almost all their alcohol was gone.

"Whoa, you're amazing" Desmond whispered into her hair, twirling a finger around a loose blond curl. "Can't you stay in New York for awhile? I want to be able to see you again."

"We haven't even slept together yet, big boy" Lucy replied, placing her hands on the smooth plane of his chest. His white hoodie was still on but she could still feel his muscles as he breathed beneath her.

"Well, who's fault is that. You're the one on top" he gave a smirk and drew her into his mouth again. She broke of prematurely which make him groan in frustration. Picking up the half empty bottle of vodka from the floor she took a shot-sized sip. She didn't swallow. She swung back to Desmond and finished the kiss, sharing the shot with him.

"Come to the bedroom" she said, kissing his neck.

Desmond sat up and allowed Lucy to wrap her legs around his waist. Desmond then carried her to the bed, dropping her onto the sheets, leaning down to her so she could whip off his hoodie. She took in his muscles through the dark fabric of his shirt and the intricate tattoo on his wrist and forearm.

"What is this?" she asked, running her fingertips along the inked design. Little did she know, she left a trail of tingles on his tanned skin.

"I dunno what it means. I just got it when I was a kid. Thought it was cool." He shrugged.

"No story behind it?"

"Lucy, if there was I'd be too drunk to account for it," he said, trying to kiss again. She pulled away.

"You're not that drunk. Tell me."

Desmond sighed and thought for a moment. After a minute he told her. "Its something to do with where I grew up. All the kids my age got 'em, when we reached a certain age. After we swore to a code. . . an oath. Now I realize I was brought up in a kind of cult. I didn't belong there. I ran. The tattoo. . . It was a mistake. I shouldn't have let them brand me."

Lucy frowned and followed the design with her index finger. "It's still beautiful, Desmond."

He placed his hand on hers, where it lay on the symbol which somewhat resembled the letter "A" but wasn't quite a letter. He pulled her hand to his cheek. "Do you have any tats?"

"One. But you'll have to close your eyes before I let you see it" Lucy's voice was instructive all of a sudden. He closed his eyes with a grin.

It happened fast then, her had was no longer soft and sensual. Her left hand grabbed his arm just above the elbow and there was a sharp pain in the crease of his arm. His eyes snapped open and he cried out a yelp of alarm, pushing Lucy to the pillows at the top of the bed, sending the syringe she had been holding flying to the scarlet carpeted floor. Lucy jumped from the bed and grabbed her bagfrom the bedside table. It was already open. She must have pulled the syringe from it while his eyes were closed.

"It wasn't the most hygienic way to conceal it" she gasped, rubbing her arm where he'd pushed her. "But it did the trick."

"What the fuck did you just inject into me?" Desmond growled, pushing himself from the bed. His hand went to his temple as he teetered and slumped against the wall.

Lucy helped him back to the bed, he was too dizzy to resist.

"Its a drug the company I work for designed. Like a hybrid of rufilin, amobarbital and a standard prescription sleeping pill. But there's no danger if its mixed with alcohol. It's administered via vein into the bloodstream. It works very fast. You'll want sit down".

"The perfect fucking date-rape drug?"

"You could say that" Lucy shrugged. "Though we're not manufacturing it to spike drinks. I'm sorry Desmond. The errand I was running for my job. It was you"

Desmond groaned. "Why?" He didn't expect an answer, and he didn't get one. He fell onto his back and watched as lights danced in front of his eyes. Lucy's hands were there again and she heaved at him till she had him lying on his stomach.

"I. . . can't believe. . . I'm getting date-raped" he slurred and flopped his head down after weakly craning it to see Lucy fumbling through her handbag again. No ordinary handbag though. No, it was an arsenal for kidnap he discovered as she took his arms behind his back and locked handcuffs around his wrists. "Kinky" he muttered half in annoyance, half in a daze.

She then eased him back onto his back and propped a pillow under his head. From her bag of tricks she produced some bottled water and a straw."You'll pass out soon, but you need to drink this. There's a bad side-effect of dehydration with the drug."

He drank. And felt the sleep coming on. Not much time left. So he shouted, struggling pitifully against the cuffs. Lucy put a hand over his mouth but he tried to bite her. So she produced some tape and placed some over his mouth. She then took out a cell phone and pressed a single button. Desmond moaned and sqirmed.

"I have him. He's cuffed and secure and about to go out."

She trawled off the address to whoever was on the other line, and soon (after what seemed like seconds to Desmond, but hours to Lucy) back-up arrived in navy uniforms with a strange logo. Desmond stared through heavy lids and tried to communicate fear and confusion. Lucy spoke with a white coated elderly man. She caught Desmond's eye and looked away quickly.

"Don't worry, Miss Stillman." the older man said, seemingly sensing discomfort. "When he wake's he worn't remember the last 24 hours. Another adaptation of the drugs. Partial amnesia. Handy. He won't recognize you as the one who captured him. Won't recognize you at all.

Desmond gave a last attempt to break free but he was dizzy, vision failing, ears ringing.

"Alright boys, load him into the van. We have a lot of work to do. Centuries of work , you could say. Onwards to Abstergo. And after that. . . . the Holy Land, 12th century."

Desmond blacked out as some goons scooped him up and loaded him away.

* * *

_We've got a problem. I can't anchor him to the memory. Too much psychological trauma. He's rejecting the treatment. Retreating._

_ Desmond I need you to try and relax._

_ Let me try and stabilize him._

_ Focus. Listen to the sound of my voice. Recognize that what you're seeing isn't real. Just a picture of the past. It can't hurt you._

_ Damn it. It's not working!_

_ Give it a moment, Miss Stillman. He'll adjust. The first time is never easy._

_ We're loosing him!_

_ That's enough Miss Stillman!_

_ We need to pull him out! Now!_

_ Alright Desmond. We're going to try and bring you out. . . . . I told you he'd be fine._

_ BASTARDS!_

_ Now, now I just saved your life._

_ Saved my life? You kidnapped me! Strapped me into that. . . thing!_

_ Animus. It's an animus._

_ I don't even know you people! Why are you doin this to me?_

_ You have information we need, Mr Miles._


End file.
